


Born to Milder Tasks

by OracleGlass



Category: Gentleman Bastard Sequence - Scott Lynch
Genre: BAMF Women, Friendship, Gen, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/OracleGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabetha and Nazca having fun with girlish things, like buying shoes, and gossiping, and perhaps a little light plotting.</p><p>The title is from Venetian poet Veronica Franco:</p><p>I drew courage from the risk I'd avoided,<br/>though a woman, born to milder tasks;<br/>and, blade in hand, I learned warrior's skills,<br/>so that, by handling weapons, I learned<br/>that women by nature are no less agile than men....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born to Milder Tasks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betweenthebliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/gifts).



“They’re just such feckless little arsewipes,” said Nazca gloomily, kicking her feet against the low stone wall she was perched on. Behind her, busy canal traffic hummed along, occasionally wafting snatches of bargemen's curses and the cry of people selling fish. “They’ve gotten better since Daddy let them dangle in the wind over the situation with the Full Crowns and the Gold Feet, but I’m tired of pretending they get to tell me what to do. I’m not precocious baby sister anymore.”

Sabetha, perched next to her, was too busy brushing off a spray of dried mud from her new boots to answer immediately. She and Nazca had each just acquired a pair, completely legitimately, from a gentleman who did elaborately beautiful work for the nobility and just as well-made, if less ornate, work for the Right People, if you were the type of Right Person who had more than two coins to rub together. The boots were shod with steel, all the better, said the cobbler with great sincerity, for kicking people in their soft bits and leaving an impression behind. Their heavy leather was also guaranteed to withstand the noxious substances frequently found in a Camorr back alleyway. Besides, they fit like you were born wearing them. Nazca had never really lost her love for shoes that were both utilitarian and attractive, and Sabetha had conceded the point. Therefore, new boots, and Sabetha was trying not to be too vain about them. Still, the mud had to go.

Finally the leather was clean, and Sabetha tossed away her ruined handkerchief and turned back to Nazca.

“They think Barsavi only cares about balls, not brains,” she said flatly. “It’s a common delusion.”

“They’ve seen me handle a dozen things for daddy, too. I’ve killed two men in front of them and they treat me like I’m still a little girl running around while the grownups tend to business.”

“I know sweet fuck-all about family matters, Nazca. And I'm not exactly nestled in the peaceful bosom of the gods! I’m living with two boys who think farting is the pinnacle of humor and a banty rooster with delusions of grandeur. The Sanzas think he shits diamonds. Chains, too, when he’s not threatening to throw him off the roof. I will trade him for your brothers. Actually, I'll trade all of them. Package deal.”

“Balls over brains?” asked Nazca.

Sabetha struggled with an impulse to agree, but honesty won out. “No, Locke’s a good thief, when he’s not overreaching, and I see what Chains sees in him. You know that, I know you’ve gotten his sordid history from your father. But gods, it all gets tiresome. Getting the Sanzas to listen to me is like trying to teach a shark how to juggle. Him, they roll over for.”

“Daddy likes him well enough,” said Nazca musingly. “Daddy and Chains are close, and anybody Chains takes on is likely to be, well...capable, at the very least. Locke’s amusing, and he’s a smart little monkey. Does he still have that mooncalf adoration for you? The last time I saw him, he was pink and stuttery whenever he looked in your direction.”

“He does. And it’s the most irritating thing to have to live with. You have no idea.”

“He’s sworn to me, you know. That patented Lamora charm, even when he was practically a baby. He’s my pezon, too. So don’t break him, all right? No matter how much he irritates you.”

Sabetha stood up. “I’m tired of talking about him. Didn’t we have an appointment?”

Nazca grinned. “We did. And just the thought of it cheers me immensely. Let’s go”

Sabetha linked arms with her and the two girls threaded their way through the usual crowded city streets. Although both girls were dressed in an inconspicuous and indeterminate fashion somewhere between well-to-do merchant’s daughters and trusted servant girls from a noble family, Nazca was nonetheless saluted with small nods, respectful flicks of a finger to an eyebrow, and, occasionally, nervous half-smiles and then evasion from a certain portion of those who were out and about that day. Daughter of the other ruler of the city, she was known by sight to almost every thief, coat charmer, arsonist, assassin, bully-boy and fence they passed. Sabetha came in for her fair share of friendly nods and discrete hand-signal greetings as well. Chains made sure his children have contacts everywhere.

Their destination was the establishment of Marzetta Greenhands, a black alchemist who worked out of a rambling set of rooms in a part of town mostly inhabited by glass blowers and paint grinders. Two young women eyed them as they entered the shop, politely but emphatically making their presence known. Marzetta preferred more subtle protections than vulgar muscle. Sabetha knew both women, and how fast they were with their knives. She nodded cordially at them, and they nodded back, unbending enough to smile faintly in return. 

Marzetta entered through a rattling bead curtain, and took up her place behind her counter. She was an older woman, which meant she was both clever and lucky. Black alchemists without possession of both traits frequently fell victim to their own experiments or to the ire of a rival. Her iron-grey hair was swept up in an elaborate series of braids, and her thin face still had traces of the beauty she had been in her younger days. It was all transmuted now to a birdlike elegance which was undiminished by the scars and marks of old burns on her thin fingers.

“Ah, Nazca, Sabetha. Lovely to see you both. Is this about the matter you mentioned to me earlier?”

“It is,” said Nazca.

“And the effect you wanted. Is that still your desire? It’s merely a matter of proportion.”

“Oh, yes,” said Nazca. “I want a very...unmistakable effect.”

Marzetta gave a little shrug. “Simple enough, and I can guarantee it will be tasteless in wine. I have all the supplies to hand, so if you can wait about twenty minutes, you can walk away with it.”

“Perfect,” said Nazca. She and Sabetha retreated to the plump sofa that sat against the far wall. It had been a rich purple velvet once upon a time, but a lifetime of holding nervous customers had resulted in a rather piebald look. Despite faded cloth and a worn nap, it was comfortable enough, and the girls sank into its depths.

“How do you plan to administer your purchase?” Sabetha asked, gesturing vaguely towards Marzetta's workroom.

Nazca smirked. “They’ll be served wine before they go in to see my father. Daddy likes to be gracious when he’s discussing politics. I'll stop by to greet them. It's the polite thing to do, after all." Her grin widened. "It should start working about ten minutes after he’s ushered in before my father.”

“Why not just have a few of your father’s men break a body part or two?”

“Beth! I am emphatically not involving any family in this. My brothers would howl with glee if I went running to daddy to tidy up these little messes, especially after they went to so much trouble to orchestrate it. If I’m a garrista, I need to settle it myself. The point of all this is to show Anjais and Pachero that I’m more than just the bookkeeper.” She sat up and pushed at her optics, which had slid down her nose.

“Anselmo thought that with my brothers backing him, Valetta being one of mine wasn’t important. I had plans for her and I wanted that entire gang sworn to me directly. That little bastard was entitled to try a power play, and if Valetta couldn’t cope with it, that’s fine, maybe it means I misjudged her. But.”

“But,” echoed Sabetha. “It wasn’t just a power play. It was humiliation using information he shouldn’t have had, save for your brothers passing it on.”

Nazca nodded. “They love me terribly, and they don't really think I'm competent, but I think I’m making them nervous despite it all. So, this attempted squashing of little sister. They used my relationship with my own pezon against her, and against me. I won’t have it.”

“So again - why not have his kneecaps relocated? Say, somewhere up near his chin.”

“Anselmo was technically acting within what’s permitted,” said Nazca through gritted teeth. “And he’s very lucky he didn’t kill her, because he’d be at the bottom of the bay with a second smile by now had he done so. But I intend to make sure he’ll never lead the Little Birds, or any other gang, for that matter. And I intend to make the matter unmistakable.” 

Sabetha let a very small smirk cross her face. “He goes in to see your father later today, yes? With your brothers? And they’ll formalize his leadership of the Little Birds.”

Nazca smiled sweetly. “When he goes in to meet my father he’ll be standing on a carpet that cost more than his worthless hide. My father loves that carpet. I hate to do this to daddy, but all’s fair in sibling warfare.”

Sabetha began to laugh. “I’m so glad there’s no way for me to witness this. I need a bath just thinking about it.”

The bead curtain rattled, and Marzetta called them up to the counter. With a flourish, she exchanged a large vial, tied incongruously with a bit of ribbon, for a few silver coins Nazca placed onto a wooden tray. One of Marzetta’s guards carried them into the back room, so the alchemist never had to touch them.

“The draught should take effect within about ten to fifteen minutes,” Marzetta cautioned. “After that, it will act on his bowels until he’s empty of everything he’s eaten for the past year or so, if you understand my meaning. If you plan to watch, I encourage you to stay at a safe distance. There have been reports of...fountaining.”

Sabetha choked back another laugh as Nazca nodded in a dignified fashion. 

“Nazca,” chortled Sabetha, “You’re going to make him a legend. The wrong kind, though. He'll never be able to lead anything more than a gentled goat to a bucket of water.” Nazca’s face twitched, and after a moment she began to laugh along with Sabetha.

Marzetta, clearly used to eccentricities from her clients, smiled indulgently. “I wish you ladies good fortune with your endeavors. Please return if I can assist you in any future matters.” She turned, but just before she stepped back into her workroom, she paused and turned back. 

“Once your task is done, should you need an effective solution which is guaranteed to completely cleanse an area, do let me know. I have just the thing. Scented like marsh oranges. Quite refreshing.” The alchemist permitted herself a tiny smirk and then disappeared behind her curtain.

Nazca and Sabetha clung to each other until the laughter had faded to intermittent whoops, punctuated by the word “fountaining” gasped by one or the other. Sabetha borrowed Nazca’s handkerchief and wiped her eyes. 

“Let me know how this all works out, Nazca. I’m sure the scene will be described to you in great detail.”

Nasca nodded breathlessly and tucked the vial securely away. 

Outside the door of the alchemist’s store, the two girls exchanged parting embraces and smiles that would have made several men in their respective circles immediately wary. Then, headed in opposite directions, they disappeared into the crowd, at home in the currents of Cammor as any shark in the sea.


End file.
